Royal Family
by sarahqq
Summary: The Cullens THE elites. THE Royal Family. THE ones in the world of power. AH/slightOOC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All recognizable things are not my property. Everything other than that, however, certainly is.**

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><p>PROLOGUE<p>

_Eight years ago_

"It's your turn," he reminded her.

She nodded, but didn't answer immediately.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

She shot at him, "Geez, give me a break. I'm just trying to think of something really good."

"Be my guest. Did I say anything? I didn't think so."

"Yeah, whatever," she said. "Okay, so I told you that my parents shipped me off to France for extra education at one point, right? Well, I got appendicitis just several months after. I called my mom, because then, I didn't know what it was. I told her that I was sick."

"Go on."

She hated it when he mocked her like that. Yes, he was two years older than her, and yes, he was much taller in height. But intellectually, he wasn't specifically more educated than her. It was strange, because all the other guys in her class didn't bother her as much. In fact, she barely minded them. This guy, however, _always_ aggravated her. He always had, since the moment she crashed into him at a church service and the time he beat her in a chess game in front of all her friends. Before that, she had never lost a chess game. But she would let him be this time; it would make her victory that much more worth it in the end.

So she continued steadfastly, "_But_ instead of asking if I was okay, she ordered me to say that in _French_. She told me that she didn't spend all her money to send me to France, only to have me speak English. So when I told her I was sick in French – that was when she finally did something."

She didn't feel as bad as she thought she would be as she said it, because she suddenly realized that she could tell him anything and wouldn't feel embarrassed.

"That's terrible." He grinned. "But nothing compared to the time when I came in second at a local track race. My dad called me a mistake in front of the whole audience. I was nine."

"That's terrible." She grinned. "I got a B one time on a test – oh, don't act surprised. Anyway, my dad, like you, freaked out because he never thought that such thing was possible. He locked me away in my room for the entire weekend, 'grounding me.' He truly knows the meaning."

"That's nothing, sweetheart. I played a note wrong at one of my piano concours. It was eleven at night when my parents and I returned from our celebratory party. They locked me away until I played better than the night's performance itself. You should see how violently my father flips out."

"You should see _my _dad flip out. When I got that B, he thought it was the end of the world."

"My mother insists that my birthday's on Christmas. But really, she only says that because she doesn't know the real date." He paused. "And because she can 'merge' my birthday party with the massive Christmas celebration our family throws annually."

"That reminds me of something. I never once got a Christmas present. My mom told me that I was that naughty kid people sang about in Christmas carols."

"Oh, cry me a river."

"But my dad had to go on and say that Santa Claus didn't even exist."

"Is that the best you got?"

"I was five!"

"Hey, I was much younger when _my_ dad told me that."

"Was it on Christmas morning?"

"Of course it was – wait a second." In the moment of silence, understanding dawned on him. He doubled over. "Wow."

She snorted, playing with her jeans' seams. "I know."

Eventually, the laughter died out. They sat silently, immersed in their childhood memories.

"There was one time when I was in junior high," he murmured suddenly, wringing his hands together. She watched him carefully, unsure what memory had changed his mood so swiftly. "The tabloids were covered with the breaking news of my relation to the Cullen family."

He looked at her as if he was waiting for some kind of response, but she simply sat still. This was a sensitive subject, and she didn't want to expose herself, only to end up being misunderstood. She didn't want him to think that she was critical of this.

"How old were you when my dad and I were on national TV for that? Did you watch it? Well, he oh so naturally claimed that I was adopted. That cleared up all the suspicions… Maybe things never change. Even then, he was all about power and reputation. Well, like father, like son, I guess – I'm all about reputations too."

She kicked him a little, but her heart wasn't really in it. She understood him – more than he could ever know. She also had the feeling that he felt the same way about her.

But it had been quite some time since she realized that they didn't really _know_ each other. They referred to each other as friends, but how could they call themselves that when they always avoided learning about each other? He was impenetrable, and she was defensive whenever he got too close – like he was the irresistible tide and she was the little girl who was trying not to get her feet wet. She was scared to get wet, but couldn't help but take the risk and play with it anyway. But one of these days, the tide might just finally swallow her… And so that fear led to her next fear: By then, would he let her in too?

"So," he said, recapturing her attention. He looked and sounded happy enough, but she wasn't so sure. "You still think your parents are worse than mine?"

"Oh, definitely." She looked at him from under her lashes and smirked. "You?"

"Naturally." He rubbed his face, sighing harshly. "But I'm not saying yours are any better. I understand you."

"I know. It's too bad we don't get to choose our families, right?"

His eyes softened. "But you know what they say – friends are the family that we choose for ourselves. At least God gave us that."

This time, she met his eyes all the way, and smiled. "Then I guess it's obvious now – that I've chosen you a long, long time ago."

"Excellent." He grinned. "Because I think I've chosen you too."

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><p><strong>I already have Chapter One written and ready. I hope you guys liked this!<strong>


	2. The Royal Family

CHAPTER ONE - The Royal Family

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><p><em>Present Day<em>

He can't find his girl yet. But scanning the throngs of crisscrossing people, he knows she's near; his heart is already racing toward her with the velocity of a cannonball. Then he finally spots her, and she's there as the way he likes the most – just the way she is. White shirt, blue jeans, curly hair, pretty face, and… angry eyes?

"This can't be good," he mutters, pulling up his sunglasses. He grins and waves, but she doesn't respond. That too is never a good sign.

Maybe the version of the reunion he imagined – all with the spinning in the air to the hours of sex – was over-romanticized. At the time, though, he thought that he had it all figured out.

She takes one of his bags without a hello. He opens his arms out, nevertheless. "Come on, Bella, no hugs?"

What she has for him is a stern stare, but his lopsided smile is all that takes for her hard feelings to diminish. Sighing, she hurls forward and buries her face in his chest. She can never be angry at him for too long. He's so immature sometimes, but she loves him anyway.

"I missed you," she tells him earnestly.

"Missed you more." He tightens his hold. "Angry?"

"Furious."

He kisses her face. "Better?"

She laughs. "Hardly."

He tries to look at her. "This isn't quite how I imagined it to be. I thought we would be on our way to the suite by now."

"Not today." She tilts his face downward, planning to plant just one, lingering kiss on his lips. But he's far from satisfied with that, sneakily opening his mouth. She pushes him away and laughs again. "All right, I think that's enough for now."

"No, no –" He swallows, his gaze drunk "– just a little bit more."

"Later, Edward." She rubs the space between her eyebrows with her finger. He's just noticing how tired she looks. "After you confront the Dragon Lady."

The usual fiery green of his eyes turns wan. Bella sympathetically cards her fingers through his hair, satisfied when she sees his shoulders relax. It still amazes her that only she has that effect on him.

"Miss Swan? Mr. Edward Cullen?"

He shuts his eyes close, and when he opens them again, they are glary. "You brought the _Blacks_?"

"No, honey, just one."

A sweet smile turns her lips – the one that brings him down to his knees. Rolling his eyes, he nods at Embry Palin, the epitome of man-in-black, and says in a dead voice, "One second, pal. My girlfriend and I are kind of busy right now."

"Actually, we're not," Bella intercedes. Suddenly, she's very aware of what's happening around them; several young women have begun to eye them curiously. "Let's leave before they come."

Rebellious fire flickers in his eyes. "Fuck the paparazzi. They can print whatever they like."

"Unfortunately, we can't say the same thing for the rest of your family. Let's go." She leans on her tiptoed feet to kiss his nose, and wipes off the trace of lip gloss. "Please?"

Bella forces Edward to unlock his hold around her, giving him a warning look when he tries to sneak back a hand. The couple, appearing perfectly aloof and otherworldly in their sunglasses, follows the bodyguard out, away from the hard scrutiny of the people and back into their world.

* * *

><p>Bella and Edward sit on the back seats of the car. This is normal because they barely get to drive anywhere by themselves. Both were raised this way – like fragile dolls that need protection.<p>

Neither speaks as they pass the brass gates and step into the vast Cullen manor. They stride past the fountain with a cherub, and climb the steps that lead to the intricately carved doorway. A middle-aged man in a suit is waiting there, tilting his head in reverence.

"Welcome home, Young Master."

"Nice to be back, Weber," Edward murmurs, his lips barely moving. _Home at last. _As he probes the mansion, he realizes just how much he's missed all of it: the towering turrets, the windows behind the semicircular balconies, the garden with ivy-covered fences, the conservatory of roses, and the row of marble columns in front of the whitewashed walls. He grins when he sees an abandoned doll on the impeccably kept bushes that line the perimeter of the manor. By the time he picks it up, the butler has opened the door.

"Uncle Ed!"

A ball of energy smashes into him as he sets a foot inside. Laughing, he crouches and adjusts his embrace. "There's my Cinderella! Wow, you've grown!"

"And lost more teeth!" Cynthia Cullen flashes a wide grin. "See?"

"You're a brave girl, aren't you?"

"Oh, and you won't believe it, Edward! I – oh, hello, Miss Isabella."

Watching Bella hover awkwardly behind him, Edward asks the little girl, "Have you been a good spy, Cindy?"

She bobs her head vigorously.

"How did they treat Bella?"

"Um…" Cynthia scowls. "Pretty badly."

The humor vanishes from his face, and he slips an arch look at his girlfriend, who in response shrugs. "Anyway, Cindy, what have you been up to?"

"Mom's been teaching me to play violin." The four-year-old sticks out her tongue. "I suck."

"I seriously doubt that. We should play together soon, with me on the piano and you the violin. How does that sound?"

"Only if I get good enough…"

"With practice, you will be. Trust me, I've been through this. By the way, look what I found?"

"Barbie!" she exclaims. "You're the best! Quil wouldn't – uh oh."

Cynthia is cut off at the sound of high heels clicking on the marble floors. The sound draws closer and closer, and a gorgeous woman with wavy black hair and pale gray eyes gracefully strolls up. She looks as refined as any woman can get.

"Cynthia."

The little girl rises to her feet. Shooting a secretive look at her uncle, she flounces off. "Yes, mommy?"

"You must hush, child. Don't forget your manners." Alice Cullen strokes her daughter's hair absentmindedly as she nods at the two adults. "Edward. Isabella."

Bella bows politely, but Edward simply returns the cold look. Barely five minutes in the house, and he already knows that things are going to be much worse than he'd predicted.

After ordering her daughter away, Alice turns. "You're late. Hurry this way. Both of you."

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><p>The Cullens are waiting in the meeting room. At the head of the table is Carlisle Cullen, the center of the Cullen circle. By his sides, there are Esme, a once stunning woman whose beauty marred from bitterness and disdain; Emmett, a brutal man who exercises control through the fear of his people; Jasper, a reserved gentleman with a quiet ambition; Alice, a more ruthless and younger version of her mother-in-law; and Rosalie, a naïve beauty who doesn't know what she's getting herself into.<p>

No one welcomes the youngest Cullen as he takes his seat. Bella is treated with the cold shoulder from everyone except one – Rosalie – who smiles at her. Bella pretends as if she doesn't see it. This show has already started.

Esme looks sharply at Bella's feet. "What kind of clunky shoes are you wearing, Isabella? They look like something a whore would wear. You are born from class – don't lose it."

Edward rolls his eyes. "Esme, you're being –"

Bella nudges her boyfriend's ribs.

The tension is so thick that a knife can cut through it. The maids, sensing this, meet eyes with no one as they scuttle in and serve the refreshments and tea. Afterward, they leave in a hurry – as if they can't get out fast enough. Bella understands how that feels.

In unison, everyone takes their respective cups up to their lips.

"I didn't trust Sam when he apprised me of your… situation at Wharton," Carlisle begins nonchalantly.

Everyone takes a peek at Edward, who curtly replies, "I plan to continue with the pursuit in the future."

"That's what you said last time. With Stern. Son, even you need an undergraduate degree."

"I am aware," Edward replies. "But I thought you would respect my decisions."

Carlisle's blue wisdom clashes with Edward's green confidence. His lips turn up into an amused smile. "Of course I do."

And that is it. All the Cullens, except Esme and Alice, keep tossing Edward peculiar glances. _The same usual, _Edward muses, _but increasingly discomforting._

"Someone must reorganize the Cullen Club immediately. Ronny has proven his incompetency too many times now, and I don't trust him anymore." Esme sips meekly on her milk tea. "Alice, would you be able?"

Alice's lips twist into a smile. "Certainly, Mrs. Cullen."

"Fantastic. Now that's easily settled… Rosalie, there will be – Rosalie?"

The blonde, blissfully unaware, continues to fidget with the lace of the tablecloth. It's when Emmett clears his throat that her head finally pops up.

Rosalie Hale isn't quite a Cullen yet, but in several weeks, she will be. She's very much like Bella Swan, only she's in a much more uncomfortable position. Without her stellar beauty, she has nothing to boast about. She is from a pathetic plebian family, and has just finished her education at a local community college with a degree in Teaching.

Bella appraises the young woman over the rim of her cup. She wonders how this blonde girl has managed to climb up so much of the social ladder and seduced Emmett Cullen. Bella decides it's the thirteen year age difference.

Bella doesn't particularly like the blonde. One of the many reasons is that the Cullens tend to classify them as "the same," and they're not; Bella's from an elite family. It's a miracle that Carlisle and Esme have relented to Emmett's will to marry her.

As per usual, there's frustration and impatience written all over Esme's face. "As I was saying, there will be your wedding announcement tonight. Be prepared."

"Tonight? Oh, of course!" Rosalie's eyes brighten remarkably. "I'm very excited! And I'm so grateful –"

"Jasper." Esme shifts her position, effectively blocking out her future daughter-in-law. Rosalie's face turns pink, but Esme doesn't seem to care.

"Yes, mother," Jasper drones.

"I must say I'm disappointed," she demands through her glacial glare. "Twelve grands? At Las Vegas? Why haven't you told us? And how long were you planning to keep this a secret?"

Bella takes in a shocked breath. She can't understand why Esme has to embarrass her son like this.

All three Cullen sons are infamous, not only for their fortune and name but for their splendor. But even then, Jasper Cullen is the one that seems to have the most suitable face as the leader. Emmett, despite being the oldest, is brash, impulsive, and hasty. Edward, the youngest, is decidedly the brightest, trendiest, and the most adventuresome, but is often critiqued as "silly" by many. Hence, the middle son with the tall spine in his strut, poker-face mask, charismatic ambiance, and a degree from Johns Hopkins appears to be the best bet. Unfortunately, he has conflicts of his own that the other two sons don't…

"About that…" Jasper trails off.

His wife creeps up a hand to still her husband's frantic arm. "Mrs. Cullen, I'd like to point out that the partners were there and that they refused to let him do anything else. I'm certain that twelve grands is worth it, no? The family business couldn't have prospered this much without the great investments Aro has provided us with. I'm sure you'll understand."

Esme raises a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. All the pride she feels for her daughter-in-law is apparent in that little gesture. "Thank you, Alice. Always the speaker. Oh, and this reminds me…"

"Bella, are you attending the society ball this evening?"

Esme's features harden at the interruption. It is Carlisle who's spoken, gazing at the calm brown-haired girl sitting directly opposite of him.

"Yes, sir, I plan to," she replies.

"Good. You always make a good visual."

Edward's eyes turn alive. "Dad."

"Edward," Esme scolds, looking rather smug. "Don't interrupt."

"A few of my colleagues look forward to seeing you again, Bella," Carlisle continues. "They're quite… charmed by you."

"Dad," Edward cuts in once more. "Please, don't talk to her that way –"

Bella squeezes his hand, and he stops himself. He looks at her in plea, but she remains frozen, making eye-contact with Carlisle only. Living their lives is all about false facades, deceitful demeanor, poker-face, mind manipulation, and not what you are but what you appear as. And to survive in their world, they have to be good.

A sudden knock on the door adjourns the meeting. Sam Uley, Carlisle's highest secretary, notifies the man of the messages that need immediate response. With that, they all rise, and depart.

* * *

><p>The Cullen mansion is a curious place. There is not a single corner that isn't gloriously adorned or kempt. The walls are completed with mirrors, and expensive jewels are embedded near the ceilings. Everything is marble, cold, hollow, and monstrous, and it can easily pass as the modern version of the Versailles.<p>

Edward and Bella are loitering in one of the vacant, private halls. They visit whenever they need time by themselves, as others almost never use this route. Now, the entire manor is springy with the preparation for the ball, and neither of them could stand it much longer.

They stand facing the largest mirror. She turns to him quietly and tidies his suit. A slow smile begins to spread across her rouged lips, and unable to help it, she bursts out laughing. Edward, although clueless, laughs along with her.

"That was very unladylike, Miss Swan," Edward teases when her laughter dies away."What's so funny?"

"You just look absolutely tortured in the suit," she explains, brushing his shoulders and kissing his neck.

"It's been too long since I had to wear this kind of thing," he admits.

"Will you survive?" she teases.

"It's not _too_ bad," he grunts, muttering a curse underneath his breath as he flexes his neck, "if I didn't have to wear the tie."

Decked out in a midnight black suit, he exudes the intense, sensual ambiance. His jacket fits closely to his chest, and his liquid shadowed gaze emanates an aura of confidentiality. With one hand lazily caressing his rumpled hair and another in his pocket, he is the ideal vision of an aloof prince.

Bella smirks. "You do look kind of hot."

"I can say the same thing about you…" His eyes rake down her length, entranced by the way the slinky, backless, black dress clings to her hips. Her hair is teased into loose curls, and he can't help but brush his fingers against them.

Bella inspects her exposed back through the mirror, dubious. "I hope my ass doesn't make an appearance tonight."

"If it's for my eyes only" – his hands creep down to the boundary where the fabric meets her skin – "I'd say differently."

She laughs nervously and squirms away, but leans her back against his chest. Sighing, she pulls his hands to her stomach. "So I was wondering."

"Oh, yeah?" he replies dismissively, having most of his attention on the high slit of the dress.

"What exactly did the Dragon Lady say to you?"

The gleam in his girlfriend's eyes makes him instantly queasy. She is a head shorter than him even with the tall heels, but he still has the urge to shuffle his feet and duck his head.

"Same old stuff," he answers evenly, rubbing the back of his head.

"I did see it, you know," she persists. "She asked for you when we were helping out downstairs. So?"

"I'm not lying. She just told me about the consequences of my actions, the public reaction, and what excuse I'll have to make if anyone should ask. She was in a pretty good mood, actually. You worry too much."

"I'm not worried." She reddens, and he curiously touches her cheekbone with the back of his hand. "I feel selfish saying this, but… I'm glad you dropped out."

He seems genuinely surprised.

"I mean, you're already smart without that degree anyway… But at the same time –"

He doesn't want to hear her pain. He simply envelopes her into a kiss that he hopes is passionate enough to take her breath away.

It does.

"Not fair," she breathes as he breaks away.

"Look, Bella, I'm alive. I talked my way out of it. She's just probably… stressed out. Everything will be fine."

They share a long moment of silence, both discord and truce flowing between them. Finally, she nods and wraps her arms around his neck, needing no words. He returns the hug, swaying her from side to side. She trusts the deep depths of his green eyes, for they have never once deceived her.

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><p>Promptly at five in the evening, the household elevates from busy to utterly uproarious. Everything is in immaculate, orderly perfection: the glass panes reflect hazy dreamlike images of the polished ballroom, flowers hang under the silky drapes, well-dressed servers with silver plates of succulent finger-foods and crystal glasses of rich wine mingle, the food easily rivals Ambrosia, the orchestra is spectacular, and the titanic chandeliers lights the air with their warm golden fog.<p>

The Cullens throw parties for nothing and everything. Tonight's is to make the wedding announcement of Emmett and Rosalie, and almost just as importantly, to celebrate the abrupt return of the most charming Cullen son – the one with the perfect smile, innovative logic, and flashing wit.

By the time Edward and Bella reach the corridors that lead to the ballroom, Bella is feeling much better about the evening. When the news about Edward's "failure" at school reached the Cullen residence, it was Bella who was left to deal with the consequences and take the fire. Naturally, she dreaded his arrival back home despite how much she missed him. But undoing the knots after his arrival has turned out easier than she had expected. Now, her only job is to be the entertainer of the night. She is to be the jewel hanging from Edward's arm as awaiting future Mrs. Edward Cullen and one of the luckiest women on Earth.

"Ready?" Edward prompts, pulling her closer so she can curl a hand around his elbow.

The grand staircase allows the Cullens to make their entrance in style and as the center of attention. People like Bella and the Cullens make a living out of attention… and bask in it every chance they get.

The couple slides down the marble steps as everyone claps in warm welcome. The sounds of muted chatter and loud music grow louder as they draw closer downward.

"And the show begins…" he mutters, blindly adjusting the white rose in his pocket.

Edward appears debonair and sophisticated – even aristocratic – in all his glory. At twenty-six, powerful people already fear and respect him. Women blush whenever he smiles at them, and men nod their heads in reverence.

Bella renders the similar influence, although all she is required to do is to hang on to his arm and let people see that he is in love with her. Oh, and some several thousand dollar dress does the equal job as well.

The guests are both intimidated and captivated by their approach. That's exactly what they aim for.

Bella sighs, watching the flurry of activity stirring before her. She ventures a glance up at Edward, but he is busy smiling at the responsive, greedy people around them. He knows this, she knows this – and while she chooses not to participate in this game of manipulation, he doesn't really have a choice. But that is pointless, because he's very good.

"Mr. Cullen! How delightful!"

"Please, Mrs. Moore, you can call me Edward." Gorgeous smile. "How are you?"

"Fantastically well! This is a marvelous party!" The pudgy woman in an explosive pink dress flutters her eyelashes. "Oh, and who would this young lady be?"

He makes the introductions. "This would be my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Mrs. Moore repeats, her eyebrows climbing.

"Isabella Marie Swan. A pleasure to meet you," Bella supplies, voice soft and angelic – just as she intends it to be.

"What a lovely company." But the face tells a different story. Envy. "You wouldn't happen to be related to a certain Charles Swan, would you?"

"In fact, I am," Bella replies politely. "He's my father."

"Oh, is he here? What about Renee?"

"They're…"

"They're traveling in Amsterdam," Edward finishes smoothly, tucking her hand more securely around his bicep. "Their important business associate is holding a party and insists that they must attend. Business procedures."

As Mrs. Moore drones on, Bella shakes her head at Edward in mocking shame. He, in response, winks. He has smoothly and successfully transitioned the conversation from the uncomfortable to the usual boring, professional, and diplomatic.

"By the way, I heard what happened!" Mrs. Moore suddenly bursts. "I didn't know you had it in you, Edward. You've been quite the naughty boy, haven't you?"

"I might have been," Edward admits with a smirk, ducking his head in humble embarrassment.

The lady laughs. "So then, have you and Isabella been separated for the last two years?"

Bella and Edward share a look, and she lets him answer. Bella can be good at these games too. She laughs when necessary, staying sufficiently attentive but mostly noncommittal, as Edward takes the reins on this part of their lives. All the while, she scans the growing crowd for any faces she might recognize.

When they are done greeting all the members of the Cullen social circle, they realize that it has taken two hours.

"Monotonous, but manageable," they recite in unison, grinning at each other and laughing quietly.

"Oh, hey, I think I see Jessica," Bella says. "Can I go talk to her?"

"Sweetheart, you don't have to ask me," he tells her, eyes confused.

"You _were_ quite the controlling, overprotective boyfriend for the past two hours."

He rolls his eyes. "Funny, Bella. You know better than I do how that was for the show. Now go on. Relax. Have fun."

"And while I do that, why don't you also go and chat up Crowley?" Edward's eyes veer to his childhood nemesis, and he scowls. Bella laughs. "I'm just kidding. You have fun too, honey."

With a peck on the cheek, she gracefully floats away to the long table of hors d'oeuvres.

"You look amazing, B," Jessica gushes when she spots Bella.

"You too, Jess. How are things? It's been so long!"

The other girl sighs. People gape as she vulgarly downs a glass of champagne. Bella laughs, secretly admiring her bold ways. "My pushy parents have sent me to South Korea for the last five months, bleh. Can you believe it?"

"Of course."

"Not funny."

"Not trying to be."

Jessica rolls her eyes in exasperation. Just then, she waves a hand and yells at the back of someone, "Hey, Eddie boy! Your girlfriend is making fun of me!"

"Jessica," Bella hisses urgently, "that's not Edward!"

An older man with Edward's broad shoulders turn slowly, face unreadable.

"Oops," says Jessica, noticing a pair of blue eyes instead of green. "Since when did Emmett Cullen have the same reddish brown hair as Romeo?"

"Since birth," Bella mutters.

Emmett Cullen heads toward them. His fiancée, in a cheap pink dress, follows closely with her eyes casted to the floor. Simultaneously, a woman wearing an elegant silver gown and a tight, severe chignon joins them as well. Even with a smile, Bella easily recognizes the gray eyes that radiate the same warmth as ice chips do.

"Is that Jessica Stanley I see?"

Jessica beams. "Long time no see, Mrs. Cullen! Where's Big C?"

"Amusing the guests, as per usual." Esme rolls her eyes coyly. "How are Mr. and Mrs. Stanley? Carlisle and I would be pleased to have their business again…"

Eventually, the two drift away into their own conversation. Meanwhile, Rosalie, head still bowed, gives Bella a shy smile.

Bella, however, has all her attention on the handsome man beside her. "Hi, Em."

"Isabella," he receives, treating her with an icy glare and a tight smile.

Rosalie ignores this exchange, and goes on, "You look great, Bella!"

"Thank you, Rosalie." Bella realizes that she is at a loss at what to say. "Umm… I rather… like your dress too."

"This?" Rosalie indicates toward her inexpensive chiffon, grinning broadly at it. She turns that grin on Bella. "It was my prom dress. Does it look all right?"

"Impeccable."

Emmett cuts in with a leer, "What a… charming friend you have, Isabella."

"Thanks."

"I heard Jessica has recently found a young man of her liking? Michael, I believe, is his name?"

"Yep, that's him," Bella answers, eyes firmly planted on him even while drinking her champagne.

"I heard she's pregnant," Rosalie excitedly informs Bella.

Bella sputters, quickly tossing a glance toward her binge-drinking friend. _Jess is pregnant? And yet she still… drinks?_ "You can't be serious!"

"She is," Emmett concedes, amused. "In fact, she and the baby's father are planning the wedding as we speak."

_Why hasn't she told me about it? _Bella thinks, almost hurt.

"I'm sure the girl has some influence on you," he begins, mysterious. "I bet she's urging you to get your own marriage proposal."

Bella is puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know, because according to what I hear, you need that proposal now."

Bella grits her teeth. As guilt seeps through her, she takes a peek at Rosalie. "Stop it, Emmett."

"Whatever you do, though, please don't end up as low as your friend Jessica. But we can't be sure, can we? You know what they say – a person's friend is his mirror."

Bella gets up to her feet, inexplicable shame washing over her. "You little –"

"Mr. Cullen, may I have a word with you?" someone interrupts, oblivious to the heated conversation that's taking place.

He winks at Bella before turning away, and it makes her stomach stir. Furious, she storms away. She quickly joins the conversation of the closest group of acquaintances. She hears and sees nothing, though. Suddenly, a lot is in her mind. First, she's hurt that Jessica has hidden about such news from her. Second, Rosalie is getting really annoying for no specific reason. And third, Emmett is a bastard.

"Bella, are you paying any attention to what I'm saying?"

"Sorry." Bella tries to relax her expression, but the unease doesn't fade. "What were you saying?"

They giggle and exchange glances. "Thomas!"

Bella's palms start to get clammy. "What about him?"

"I thought he was going to do it last night, but he didn't," her friend sighs ruefully, bringing up her left hand to stare at the empty finger. "I would like it if he does it soon. Besides, I _think_ it's soon."

That doesn't go down well with Bella. She feels the urge to rip her hair out, stomp her foot, and scream. Why is everyone suddenly tempted to talk about marriage and wedding? It bothers her more than it should.

"Oh, so how are things between you and Edward?"

"Just look at him tonight!" another girl pipes in. "It should be illegal to look so good…"

Bella starts. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you becoming Mrs. Cullen any time soon? God, I still remember that time when he won the swimming tournament. He asked afterward if he could take you out for some ice cream! It was so cute! And you two have been dating ever since – for, what, eight years? Nine?"

"Eight," Bella answers weakly. She has the strangest urge to hide her left hand, because her friends are staring at it as if the fact that there is no diamond on it is the eighth wonder of the world. All of them have peculiar glints in their eyes, and Bella quickly realizes that she doesn't like it.

One of them links an arm through Bella's and giggles. "Well? Are you feeling it coming?"

_No. _"I… Now isn't the right moment anyway. It's an important time, both for him and the company."

That opens the floodgates. Before Bella knows it, her friends are ragging at her. To her relief, she is saved by a loud commotion from the doorway. She and her acquaintances turn to see a stunning girl standing there, surveying the crowd with cool, black eyes. Her long bangs are thrown back with the rest of her hair, before swinging in long, wild midnight curls down her back. In a fiery crimson dress, she is the epitome of a sultry siren.

Bella feels panic bubbling inside her, searching desperately for Edward. When she finds him, she tries to locate what his eyes see, only to trace back to where the girl in red is. To Bella's horror, the girl is also staring back at the smitten man, a seductive smile on her full, nude lips.

Excited murmurs break out among the younger men. The women settle with treating the new guest with hateful glares. Shamefully, Bella is one of them.

"Fashionably late – how typical of her," one of Bella's friend says wistfully.

"When did she get back anyway?" another wonders.

"I guess she's done perfecting her Russian now," Bella mumbles, cowering away as she feels her confidence sinking. "I didn't think I'd see her so soon."

Chills run up Bella's spine as she hears a sharp voice call out, "Bailey! Jenny! Nelly! Oh, my God, I haven't seen you guys in forever – oh."

"Hello, Carmen," Bella greets, sounding oddly stilted. "How are you?"

"Just fine," the lustrous beauty returns tautly, her smile already faltering. Her black eyes cool forbiddingly, and Bella can't fathom why. "I should have known. No one has the same grace and style as Isabella Swan."

Bella plasters on an equally false, perfect smile. One that doesn't touch her eyes. "You always make me blush. How can I compete with you?"

"That is true," she sings with a thoughtful sigh. Her heavy makeup makes her look like a perfect porcelain doll. What more ugliness does she hide underneath that layer of disguise? "Anyway, where's Edward Cullen? I think I saw him just now. Oh, and I've been hearing some things about him – he's back in New York for good, isn't he?"

Bella feels like she's just been socked in the gut. She clamps her mouth shut, refusing to answer. It doesn't slip her notice that Carmen has coyly glanced down at her left hand; and this time, Bella does hide it away.

But Carmen has already seen it. Her sparkling smile is the proof. "Never mind, I'll find him soon enough. Well, excuse me, girls, I have to mingle now! People to meet and impress! See you around!"

Bella and her friends watch the back of the red dress swivel as she sashays off with swaying hips.

"I think I'll head off too," Bella announces softly, gaze still trained after the raven-haired woman. Bella scuttles away, leaving behind her dumbfounded friends. Is it even possible that a person loses all her aplomb in a matter of minutes?

Bella ends up at the open bar. Ironically, she's more exhausted after a few minutes of mingling alone than two hours with her boyfriend. She should have never left him in the first place.

"Mr. Cullen, you can't be serious about this!"

Registering the familiar voice, Bella finds Carlisle and Alice Cullen huddled in the corner, away from the probing gazes. Their voices are faint, and before she can understand anything, the conversation is ceased, resulting in a furious Alice and an adamant Carlisle. Without warning, Alice's eyes snap toward Bella. The gray eyes glitter icily at her, but Bella has no clue what she has done to earn it. Bella stays frozen, trapped in the eye-contact, as Alice marches up, beautifully angry in her artistic blue color-palette dress. She sneers at the poor girl, lips curled in disgust.

Bella's throat tightens. "Mrs. Cullen?"

"I hope you're happy."

"Excuse me?"

Alice Cullen searches Bella's face for a hint of lie or mockery, but finding none, she walks away, hissing, "Then, I guess you'll find out soon enough."

As if on cue, the lights dim and the music fade. Bella feels nauseous, as if her guts already sense that something is about to surface – and that it isn't necessarily a good thing.

A stream of light is directed to the center of the dance floor, where Carlisle Cullen is. When the mass of people claps the procedural applause, the blond man reveals his handsome smile of wrinkles and old poise. It's then that Bella recognizes both the excitement and nervousness present in him.

He begins the speech with the usual words of welcome. Eventually, there's a pause – a long, anticipating, crackling pause. He clears his throat, and everyone knows that this is what's truly important.

"Tonight is a special night – _my _special night. As you all know, I have become an old man. At the age of twenty one, I began a business, naming it after my surname. At the age of thirty six, it evolved into one of the most influential business partakers in the world. And now, at the age of fifty eight, I think it's time for me to plan again, do again, think again, and ultimately… admit the fact that time has now gone ahead of me. So without further ado, I will announce something that I've been thinking about for quite a few years already…"

Bella scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

"I plan to retire."

There's a collective gasp, followed by conversation erupting from all corners of the room.

"But not any time soon – no, not in a few years," Carlisle assures, his voice growing to speak over the people. "Now what I truly want to announce is my plan afterward. When the time comes, I intend to bequeath all my powers as the CEO of Cullen Group, to my youngest son, Edward Cullen."

Bella's stomach drops. She barely registers the explosive gasps from the guests, much less her own.

"Edward? Son? Will you please join me?"

Another spotlight comes on, and it finds Edward. She can see the wild disbelief in him, even through his careful, professional façade. She watches him frantically touching his hair, and even hears him stuttering a few times. But she can neither make out nor comprehend anything entirely, because she feels like she's in a dream. As he comes off the dance floor, people open up to make a path for him. They clap away in a tentative, dubious manner.

_I hope you're happy, _Bella recalls. Is Alice angry that it's Bella and not her who will be the new CEO's wife? Is this what Alice has anticipated?

Bella feels the floor beneath her slipping away and the walls swimming. She skitters over to the bar for support, mouth agape and hands shaking.

Carlisle continues on with the wedding announcement, but no one pays attention. Bella isn't either.

After the toast, Carlisle Cullen finishes off by thanking everyone and inviting them to take to the dance floor and enjoy the rest of the evening. The lights come back on, and the music is part of the festive air again. When Bella finally places where her feet are, she tears across the room to find her boyfriend, but he's nowhere to be found.

Then the guests begin to find her. They surround in crowds, congratulating her as if the success isn't Edward's but hers. It takes her a moment to think of an excuse, but she manages to escape. She hurriedly straggles up the staircase, suddenly realizing where he could be.

Bella's right. She finds him in their hallway, standing motionlessly in front of the mirror. Her lips part, but no words come out.

"Edward," she says softly.

He reaches out to touch his reflection. He frowns.

"Edward?" she repeats, getting closer. She numbly reaches out for him, eyeing him worriedly.

He finally looks at her, but his eyes reveal neither glee nor gloom. He tucks her hair behind her ear. "Bella, you look paler than usual. Are you okay?"

"What? _What_? Am _I _okay?" She blinks, stunned once more. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

His lips tip upward, amused. "Then what makes you think _I_ wouldn't be okay?"

"But… I thought you would be surprised –"

"Surprised?" He gives her a feeble smile before planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Dazed, sweetheart – absolutely dazed."

"I don't know what to say." Feeling useless, Bella slacks into his touch. Her legs feel wobbly, especially now that the tension has dissipated out of her. Her previous worries about Jessica, Rosalie, Emmett, and even Carmen seem nothing compared to what's happening now. "Should I be congratulating you?"

"I'd like that." But he's steering her toward the indoor window, where it provides the view of the entire span of the ballroom below. "But I don't think now is the right time."

Bella sees them. Carlisle and Esme are in a heated conversation. Carlisle looks rather calm – even satisfied. Esme looks diabolical, slowly losing her façade. Emmett and his fiancée stand motionlessly next to them, while Alice and Jasper hover in total consternation. Obviously, Carlisle has discussed this with no one. Alice must have been the first other Cullen to know.

"It can't be that bad, can it, Bella?" Edward murmurs, moving so his chin sits on the top of her head. But the shaky arms tightening around her circumference betray his words.

"You're worried," she breathes, stilling the trembling with her hand.

"No, Bella." He swallows. "I'm terrified."

She should say something witty to lighten him up. But she can't. Not now. Not when he's become a very influential man with huge property, money, power, and responsibility. Not when he's now fully exposed to the jealousy and corruption of his family, friends, business partners, and even himself. Because the truth is, as much as he's terrified, so is she.

* * *

><p><strong>I was bored, so I got this idea about "modern royalty." I know that billionaire families are quite like this: siblings fighting for legacy, tabloids publishing bullcrap, and parents being strict.<strong> **Basically, this is just an experiment. I have nothing really planned after this, so unless I get a lot of response, I won't continue. Meaning, reviews would be greatly appreciated! (:  
>P.S. This is a very rough draft. Please tell me if you find any grammatical errors.<strong>


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